Page 90 of The Americana Playbook

“What I want you togetis dismissing any kind of abuse off the bat just because you can’t imagine it isn’t the vibe. I can’t sell that shit. Not to Nike or Gatorade. And you’re beloved right now. But don’t think people can’t turn against you in a flash, because they can. And they will. You are the company you keep.”

The irony isn’t lost on me that that’s what Foller said about Parker back in high school.

* * *

If a picture is worth a thousand words, I’d love to know what a two thousand-piece puzzle is worth, especially when you’re missingonedamn piece.

When I told Parker I wouldn’t work on it while she was gone, I meant it. But that was before this shitstorm. Now, I’m checking the couch for the eighth time phone rings. Given Parker usually calls around this time—and because I had another bourbon after Nick left—I swipe to open the call without even looking at the screen.

“I know you’re going to be pissed,” I say, “but promise you won’t hate me.”

It’s quiet on the line. I yank the phone from my ear, andfuck me, it’s Coach.

“You know I’mgoingto be pissed? Huh. I think it’s too late for that. A little birdy told me you met with Heath today.”

I sink down onto cushions I’ve rehomed to the floor. “I just popped in after working out. I do that every now and then.”

I focus on my empty glass across from me on the coffee table, willing for either it to be full or my phone to lose service.

“What did you talk about?”

I press my lips together. “About the wedding. You wouldn’t believe how many football guys have so many opinions,” I tell him. “Josh?—”

“I don’t care about Josh, Fitz. Or this fucking circus of a wedding. Enough with the bullshit.”

Instinctively, I straighten, as if Coach is standing in the room with me. I’m putting a lot of faith in Heath and hoping he didn’t throw me under the bus. “We talked about Parker.”

The deafening silence is sobering. That was a bad play.

“Parker,” Coach says after a beat. “What business does Heath have talking to you about Parker?”

Some might say that Heath has as much business talking to me about Parker as Coach does.

“He wanted to give me advice,” I spit out.

God, I hate awkward silence over the phone.

“I see,” Coach finally says. “Well, with your engagement party around the corner…I suppose with Parker, you’ll need all the help you can get.”

Of all the bits of silence, this has to be the worst—this is angry silence, from meandfrom Coach.

“I wanted to talk with you today before you left.The Boston Journalreached out to me. They’re doing a profile on the team before?—”

“On the team?” I interject. “Or on you?”

Coach clears his throat. “Well, there would be a sit-down withus.You and me. Football’s dream team.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Of course he has to bring this to my attention just after my meeting with Heath. Ignorance would’ve been bliss in this situation.

“I’ll have to check with Parker.”

“WithParker?”

God, I hate that I’m making her take the fall for this. “The White House is filtering my media until the election,” I lie. “You know, just to make sure I don’t do anything that will make them look bad.”

Coach cackles. “Since when do you care about politics, Fitzy?”

“I care about the woman I’m about to marry.” It helps I was smart enough tonotconfide in Coach about any of this because, at this point, I’d tell Candice and Walter to jump off a cliff if it didn’t make things more difficult for Parker. “I’m about to head to bed. I’ll stop by after my workout tomorrow. You can give me the details.”

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